


hurricane

by fallingplanets (professionalgriefer)



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Like, M/M, graphic or anything, if that makes sense, it's mentioned but it doesn't /happen/, it's very poetic but not poetic at all, pretentious stuff, there's a major character death but it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professionalgriefer/pseuds/fallingplanets
Summary: they weren't made to last, mackenzie had known that from the beginning. all of the beautiful things are gone too early. the flowers never make it past the end of summer, the stars in the sky disappear with every sunrise. nature doesn't allow for beautiful things to last forever, and dalton was such an exquisite thing it's no wonder he couldn't stay.





	

they weren't made to last, mackenzie had known that from the beginning. all of the beautiful things are gone too early. the flowers never make it past the end of summer, the stars in the sky disappear with every sunrise. nature doesn't allow for beautiful things to last forever, and dalton was such an exquisite thing it's no wonder he couldn't stay.

he sees dalton in everything. he sees his innocence in the children that pass by every morning, his purity in the new snow that falls every december, his beauty in every rose that blooms in the garden behind the house they used to share.

the pain hasn't faded since that day, but it's becoming more tolerable with every day that passes. he no longer breaks down crying in front of the tv when the show they used to watch together comes on or when he wakes up the only one in the bed made for two. 

he misses a lot of things, though. he misses the feeling of dalton's rough hand in his own. he misses the feeling of dalton's lips, chapped as they were, pressed against his. he misses the sight of dalton's smile, bright enough to light up the darkest night.

some days, mac likes to think about him. he pulls the box out from on top of his closet, full of dalton's favorite things and absolutely reeking of every memory they ever made together, sits down on their bed and remembers. even after all this time, dalton's favorite sweater still smells like he did, warm and sweet and reassuring. mac makes it a point never to wear it, afraid that the lingering scent of dalton might fade.

there's a book in there, too. dalton's journal, full of every thought, dream and memory he ever had. every page in the book is tearstained, remnants of the night mackenzie used to spend sitting up all night, reading through the pages and trying to heal his broken heart.

it didn't work, of course. words on a page are hardly a substitute for a person, and even the most poetic of people would be unable to capture dalton's vibrancy in words.

tucked between the pages of the book are dozens of photographs, each holding a memory. mac likes to hold them, lose himself in the memories behind them. it hurts, to remember how happy they used to be.

one picture always catches him though. it's a memory he has a hard time escaping. 

the picture is worn at the edges, years old. the memories it holds are eternally young, though. the frames of two young men are silhouetted in front of a grand window, bodies pressed together to the point that they could be mistaken as one. their lips are pressed together, and mackenzie thinks he can still taste the fancy champagne on dalton's tongue.

the picture itself is nothing special, but it will never fail to transport mackenzie back to that night, when they were untouchable and eternally young, drunk off of life and the taste of each other's lips.

_dalton was a hurricane. always wild, always on the move, never slowing down or stopping. and somehow, some way, he had managed to involve mackenzie in one of his wild schemes._

_they were standing outside the ballroom, hand in hand, staring at the huge oak doors. the hallway was lit only by the pale yellow chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, bathing the young couple in a soft light. mackenzie couldn't help but think it made dalton look more beautiful than usual. the lighting bounced off his pale skin, making him look almost angelic._

_"let me do the talking." dalton said quietly and before he knew it, mackenzie was being tugged towards the big oak doors that loomed in front of them._

_his hands were shaking and his palms were sweaty and he felt so insecure, standing beside beautiful, beautiful dalton with all of those prestigious socialites staring at them. he only half-listened as dalton made up a lie to the security guard and the next thing he knew, dalton was pulling him the the doors and towards a giant ballroom floor._

_dancing, that mackenzie could do. he pulled dalton against his chest, his heart swelling every time dalton giggled as one of them moved wrong and stumbled. they were far from perfect, hair tousled and suits wrinkled, teenagers who didn't do or say anything they were told to, just doing what felt right and living. all around them, there was tutting. rich, proper people who had never lived. mackenzie couldn't help but pity them, for they might never know how free they could be._

_mackenzie twirled dalton around, listening to him laugh and seeing his smile and forgetting entirely about the battles he was fighting in his mind, what war zones lay underneath the sleeves of his suit jacket. that night, they were young and happy and in love. they danced for what felt like years, until neither could feel their feet and both were sweating like marathon runners._

_the gala ended at midnight. they left hand in hand, still wearing their masks. dalton's tie and mackenzie's cuff links are left in the ballroom, but neither of them could find a reason to care. they climbed into a cab, directed the driver to take them to a beach. in the back of the cab, dalton laid down across the backseat and put his head in mackenzie's lap, blinking lazily up at him with emerald eyes. mackenzie found himself unable to keep his hands and eyes off of dalton's perfect face, drinking in every detail._

thinking back now, he can still remember the feel of dalton's hair between his fingers. the way his eyelashes fanned out across his cheekbones and the soft, content sigh that escaped his lips.

_the cab eventually stopped, and mackenzie passed a much larger than required bill to the driver and didn't bother to get his change as he climbed out of the car. he followed dalton to the waterfront, taking his hand as they stood side by side and listened to the waves crash on the sand._

_"it's all so temporary." dalton's voice was quiet and soft, pondering. "the waves, they come in and then they're gone, off to another country, another continent, another hemisphere. never around long enough, always missing so much. following a plan, a pre-conceived notion of what they're supposed to do."_

_mackenzie was about to ask why dalton was so philosophical about waves, of all things, but dalton continued before he could._

_"and it's not just waves, mackenzie." mackenzie loved the way his name sounded on dalton's tongue. "it's people too. all those people, back there at the gala. they're so busy, always here and there but never really anywhere because they're always so busy doing what they're supposed to, you know?"_

_mackenzie does not know, but he nods nonetheless. dalton lets go of his hand, turning to face him instead. he reaches out and grabs mackenzie's face between his hands, palms warm and firm on his cheeks._

_"promise me, mackenzie. promise that you'll always stick around, you won't rush. you'll just... enjoy things. do things. be you. you won't be fleeting. please."_

_to this day, mackenzie still doesn't know if it was the desperation in dalton's voice, or the way the moonlight made his eyes look iridescent and breathtaking or the fact that he was exhausted and so, so, so in love or a combination of all three but he nodded even though dalton's words made no sense, sealing his promise._

_dalton pressed his lips against mackenzie's, and mackenzie pretended not to notice the tears that were rolling down dalton's cheeks, leaving tracks in their wake._

_they kissed until their lips were red and sore, until mackenzie couldn't tell where he ended and dalton started, until they were one. and one they stayed, until cruel, cruel fate ripped his perfect dalton away from him._

isn't it funny, how dalton was the one so caught up in living in the moment that he ended up being one of the most brief parts of mackenzie's life? but at the same time, he's one of the most permanent. the only person to leave such a mark on his heart. 

his hand shakes and his face is wet with tears as the pen glides across the back of the photo, leaving his permanent mark on the memory.

__

he was a hurricane  
and even from the eye of the storm  
i was swept away


End file.
